A Message from the Rogue
by sarabistarfire
Summary: SPOILERS FOR BLOODHOUND. An off page scene. Ever wonder why Dale makes such lame excuses to Beka at the end of Bloodhound? What if it wasn't entirely his idea?


AN: SPOILERS FOR BLOODHOUND

Did anyone else ever wonder why Dale gave up so easily at the end of Bloodhound? What if something other than his man-whorish tendencies were driving the hasty breakup?

Disclaimer: I did not like Dale Rowan and thought their breakup was lame. Beka deserves better. Not sure if 'better'= Rosto however.

By the by, I am not, never have been or ever will be remotely as amazing as Tamora Pierce. Therefore, I own absolutely nothing.

Late night Saturday September 22

Dale Rowan left the Merman's Cave and wended his way through the Flowerbed back towards his lodgings. He was slightly tipsy, but happy- he'd been celebrating his excellent winnings that night.

He was also thinking of his latest conquest - a Dog, no less! That was a first. Unfortunately Beka had been off on business the past few days, and then got herself injured and at the moment was laid up with injuries, which he found tiresome. But he hoped she'd be extra excited and looking to celebrate after she was healed and her fervor for the hunt died down- he was really looking forward to her…company… at least once more before the novelty wore off.

He'd hate to have to leave without seeing her again- it was always frustrating when that happened. He wouldn't be able to find another mot to satisfy him for a long time after. He really needed to see each girl at least a few times before his head would be clear.

Because he was drunk and thinking about mots (plus, Pearl liked him so he hardly ever met with trouble) Dale didn't notice that he was being tailed. Admittedly, the man was good at his job, keeping to the shadows until at last he came up next to Dale when he took a shortcut through an alleyway.

"You Dale Rowan?" the man asked in a low, deep voice.

Dale whipped around to face his new companion, who was the slightest bit fuzzy at the edges. "The one and only. Who wants to know?"

The cove didn't answer his question. "Thought it had to be you. I know your type- gambling scut, womanizer who picks them up, ruins their reputations and then casts 'em off when you get bored or find someone new."

Dale sneered at the man, but wasn't riled. "So? What of it?"

"Well, these days you mess with the wrong mot," said the cove gruffly. "She has powerful friends who take offense at a scut like you trifling with her."

Dale couldn't help laughing out loud. If he hadn't been drunk, he might have thought better of it, but it was just too funny.

"You mean the Corus Rogue- what's his name? Rosa?"

The man stiffened and made a noise in his throat that could have been mistaken for a growl. "Him, among others."

"Ha! You expect that to scare me? Your Rogue doesn't even deserve the name! Slobbering after one mot! Bet it pinches his cod- he's been working on her for near a year and she went with me in less than a week! Perhaps _I _should try for the throne in Corus, if the Rogue is such a craven spintry!"

Without warning, the man grabbed Dale and pinned him up against a wall with a knife to his throat. "Don't dare insult my master, boy. He's not Pearl Skinner, too stupid and crazy to hold a throne. Corus' Rogue knows his business, and you'd best pay attention."

Dale struggled, but couldn't break the man's hold. Finally he gasped, "What the bleeding hell do you want?"

"I want you to end it with Beka, as soon as possible. Nice like, without a fuss. Let her go back to Corus and never try to contact her again."

Dale's face was beginning to redden from his efforts to break away. "And why the sarden hell should I do that?"

"Because, idiot, I said so. Point of fact, you're lucky the Rogue has mots advising him. Could've been that you would end up dead in a gutter some night like the pox ridden scut you are." The cove pressed harder on the knife and clenched his hand around Dale's neck so only a strangled gasp came in reply.

"But, things as they are, there's really no need for all that. Just end it without hurting her. And you're not to let Beka know why, neither. Elsewise I'll be back to slit your throat." The pressure on the knife was increased again, so that a thin line of blood appeared on Dale's neck from its tip. "We have an understanding?"

"Yes, of course," Dale gasped, and the man let him go. He seemed about ready to disappear into the shadows again, but Dale was considerably bolder when he was away from the man's knife.

Rubbing his neck with distaste, Dale yelled, "Of course, I'll make sure to give her a great sendoff before I let her go! I just might break her and watch your puttock Rogue try and pick up the pieces!"

The cove looked ready to rush Dale again when a much smaller form emerged from the shadows- a black cat with bright purple eyes that seemed to blaze in the darkness of the alleyway. Both men stared at the cat, but only one was surprised when a voice rang clearly in their minds.

_Drunken idiot, you should listen to what you're told. Our friend is playing nice. _Dale gulped and stumbled backwards, away from the unnatural thing. _Besides, if you hurt her and Rosto doesn't get to you first, then Lord Gershom, Goodwin and Tunstall will rip you to shreds and leave what remains to rot in the mines. And then _I'll_ come for you. _The cat bared its teeth is what seemed to Dale like a malicious grin. _Now get out of Beka's life. She doesn't need scum like you. She has work to do._

The sight of a talking, grinning, purple eyed cat was finally enough to scare Dale and jar his flight reflexes. But before he ran away, he had to have the last word. "You tell your master that he can have his poxy cur," he snarled at the pair of them. "She's a decent mot, dressed in the right clothes and with the right crowd, but when she's working she's nasty and hard." Dale spat on the ground. "Here's hoping she boxes _him_ up and leaves him on the Provost's doorstep afore long!" And with another glance at the supernatural cat, Dale Rowan ran all the way back to his lodgings.

Meanwhile, the gruff man in the alleyway leaned down to stroke the cat. "Thanks for the help, Pounce."

_You were doing alright on your own, Phelan._ Pounce mewed softly and started to wash himself._ I just made sure he wouldn't forget so soon._

"I thought Beka said you had to go do god things and couldn't be come to Port Caynn with her?"

_This was a nice change from tedious constellations. Besides, Beka needs to learn that she is able to manage on her own. Which she is, of course._

Phelan chuckled softly, then stood and started to stretch. "I should go- I need to catch the dawn clipper back to Corus without any of the Dogs here being any the wiser."

Pounce too stood and switched his tail. _Yes, you should._ He started to swagger off in the other direction. _Good travels. Say hello to Rosto for me._

"Oh, I will," Phelan mumbled as they both disappeared into the shadows once more.


End file.
